


The Other Half of the Equation

by flaming_muse



Series: Sum-verse [3]
Category: Glee
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-27
Updated: 2011-10-27
Packaged: 2017-10-25 00:35:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/269685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flaming_muse/pseuds/flaming_muse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blaine turns Kurt’s life upside-down over a tiny, bejeweled coffin. Scenes of two boys in love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Other Half of the Equation

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Deutsch available: [The Other Half of the Equation -- Die Andere Hälfte der Gleichung](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6631945) by [Klaineship](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Klaineship/pseuds/Klaineship)



> Spoilers: starts during 2x16 (“Original Song”) and ends during 2x18 (“Born This Way”)
> 
> Notes: This is a companion piece to [“Than the Sum of its Parts”](http://archiveofourown.org/works/226989/chapters/344059) and deliberately parallels a few of the same scenes from Kurt’s POV as well as adding many others, though the format and breadth of this fic is quite different than Sum because Kurt’s story is his own. Both fics are entirely canon-compliant for season two, and they can be read independently of each other. If you are going to read them both, I recommend Sum first, if only because I wrote it first.

Kurt arrives early at Dalton on the morning after he starts dating Blaine.

It’s not that he means to arrive early, but he woke well before his alarm, despite having been up late texting with Blaine about absolutely nothing but neither of them being able to stop, and once he was awake he couldn’t get back to sleep with all of the butterflies in his stomach. He lay in bed and was delighted and a little bit shocked to find that his memories of kissing Blaine were not from a dream, but thinking about the kisses made his heart pound with remembered desire and, even more, nerves about seeing Blaine again. Yesterday had been amazing, but that was yesterday. He has no idea what today will be. So he had gotten up, taken even more care than usual over his hair and uniform, and had finally left the house in order to avoid the questions starting to form in his father’s eyes as Kurt had jittered around the kitchen.

All of that means that Kurt is early to school, and as he pulls into the day student parking lot he takes a deep breath and tells himself to be calm. Nothing has really changed. Sure, he and Blaine _kissed_ , and they’re in a relationship, a _romantic_ relationship, but it isn’t like they didn’t spend most of their free time together, anyway. They’ll see each other around school, sit beside each other at lunch, practice their duet for Regionals (and this time actually _sing_ ), and do all of the things they were already doing before yesterday when Blaine turned Kurt’s life upside-down over a tiny, bejeweled coffin.

Nothing outwardly is going to change. They’re at school, and if the school is Dalton and not McKinley there are still other people around most of the time. Kurt knows he can’t expect more than a little extra attention from Blaine... and possibly an ill-timed and poorly chosen serenade, but it’s not like Blaine hasn’t always focused on him more than he should with the Warblers, anyway. They’re dating, and he knows they aren’t going to _hide_ it here, but he thinks it’s going to look almost exactly the same to everyone else. It’s fine with him; it’s not like they’d turn into one of those stupid PDA-crazy couples even if they could.

Kurt pulls into a parking space, smiling to himself, and freezes with his hand on the ignition when he sees a familiar figure leaning against a tree by the path up to campus. From this distance it could be any dark-haired boy in a Dalton uniform, but Kurt would know Blaine anywhere.

Blaine hasn’t met him at his car in the morning since Kurt’s first day at Dalton, back when Blaine always seemed to need to guide him and shape him into something Kurt just isn’t. Kurt’s heart leaps into his throat at the memory of feeling like he couldn’t measure up here, either, and even as his pulse skitters at seeing Blaine, he tells himself firmly that if for some reason Blaine has decided overnight he’s made a mistake he will be okay. It wouldn’t be the first time Blaine hasn’t wanted him as more than a friend, and even if he loses the friendship, too, he will be _fine_.

Drawing himself up straight, Kurt refuses to rush as he shuts off the car, unplugs and stows his iPod in his bag, and gets out. He slings his bag over his shoulder and locks the door before turning toward the path and the boy standing there. He will be _fine_.

Still, he feels a dizzy rush of relief when he gets close enough to see the smile on Blaine’s face, bright and excited to see him. Kurt quickens his pace without conscious thought, and Blaine pushes off from the tree and waits for him at the bottom of the path.

“Hi, Kurt,” he says, holding out a paper travel cup when Kurt walks over. “This is for you.”

“Good morning.” Kurt smiles at the gesture and takes it. “Thank you.”

“It’s just coffee from the dining hall,” Blaine says with a shrug of apology. “And it might be a little cold.”

Kurt takes a sip, and it is _far_ from hot and yet nowhere near cold enough to fall into the acceptable temperature range for iced coffee. “How long have you been _out_ here?” he asks before he can stop himself.

Blaine laughs self-consciously and looks away over the parking lot. “A while,” he admits. “I woke up early.”

“I did, too.”

At that, Blaine focuses back on him, his eyes searching Kurt’s face before he breaks out into another wide smile. “Any particular reason?” he asks.

“Oh, no,” Kurt replies loftily, because although he may be head-over-heels for Blaine he doesn’t have to admit it just because Blaine’s adorable but quite obviously fishing. “Maybe it’s a full moon.”

Blaine’s eyes crinkle with amusement, but he simply nods and says, “Yeah, that must be it. A full moon. That would explain why Thad looked so hairy last night, too. Huh.”

Kurt tries to hide his smile, but he can’t. Blaine is beyond ridiculous, and yet Kurt can’t get enough of him. That’s always been true for Kurt, and it’s apparently a thousand times worse today than it was even the day before. He takes another sip of coffee to give himself something to do, and he grimaces at the lukewarm bitterness of it.

“Is it really that bad?” Blaine asks.

“I’m sorry, but yes.”

“Next time I’ll have to time things better,” Blaine says, and Kurt’s thoughts skip at the thought of next time. _Next time_ his _boyfriend_ comes to meet him at his car in the morning. “Come on. Let’s go get some hot coffee before assembly.”

Since what he has to drink is hardly appealing, Kurt nods and adjusts his bag on his shoulder; despite all of the extra smiling, this feels normal. They get coffee. They sit together at assembly. They walk each other to class sometimes. It’s just the same.

Then as they fall into step beside each other, Blaine reaches out and runs his hand down Kurt’s back, his hand lingering for a moment at Kurt’s waist. Kurt can’t help but startle a little, because it’s just not the sort of thing he’s used to, but it’s a gentle touch, and he can feel it like it’s against his skin despite the layers of overcoat and uniform in between. His skin prickles. His face flushes. His heart begins to pound. He takes a steadying breath, and when he looks over Blaine is watching him with happy, open affection. It is similar to and yet absolutely nothing like how Blaine used to touch and look at him.

 _Oh_ , thinks Kurt weakly and with a thrill deep in his stomach as he walks beside Blaine toward the dining hall. _Everything has changed._

*

The next day, Kurt’s French class is cancelled, and he is looking for a quiet place to finish up his reading for History when he hears music coming out of the common room. It’s Chopin, one of the Impromptus, and by the way it stops and repeats from time to time it is obviously being played live on the piano. He stops and listens outside the doorway; he performed this particular piece in a recital in middle school, and he’s still fond of it.

As the piece nears its finish, Kurt dares to peek inside to see who is playing, and he’s shocked to find that the person bent over the keys and coaxing out the music is Blaine. It’s _Blaine_. His heart flips at seeing that familiar and welcome profile so unexpectedly.

Blaine manages to get to the end without incident, and he jerks in surprise and spins around on the piano bench when Kurt applauds politely from the doorway.

“Hi, Kurt,” Blaine says with the smile that Kurt has already identified as just for him.

“I didn’t know you had any classical training,” Kurt says, taking a few steps into the room. “Quite a departure from Katy Perry.”

“I’ll have you know Chopin was the Katy Perry of the Romantic period,” Blaine replies with an earnest lift of his eyebrows.

Kurt grins and shakes his head at the absurdity of it. God, he’s in so deep already. “I’m not sure that’s the accepted view of musical history.”

“Close enough,” Blaine says. He twists sideways on the bench and runs through a few scales. “Anyway, I like to play the classics now and then. I don’t want to get too rusty.”

“Well,” Kurt says, keeping his hands on the strap of his bag because otherwise he’s going to have to walk over and put them on Blaine’s shoulders to feel the flex of his muscles as he plays, “I don’t mean to interrupt you.”

Blaine glances up from his hands. “You aren’t. I mean, you sort of are, but I’m happy to see you. I didn’t think you had a free period now.”

“Madame Faust is out, and I need to finish my reading for History since _someone_ kept me up talking last night instead of letting me do my homework.”

“I’ll have to talk to Finn about that.”

“Oh, yes, Finn. You know how he is; what a chatterbox, always sharing his every thought and feeling.”

“Who else could it be?” Blaine grins at him, his eyes sparkling, and it would be so easy for Kurt to drop his bag and fall into the teasing. It’s always been wonderful to spend time with Blaine, and now it has a whole new rush of excitement. It makes Kurt feel lighter just thinking about it, like he’s on a swiftly descending elevator.

It would be so very easy, so Kurt forces himself to weigh the appeal of spending this unexpected time with Blaine against his teacher’s temper when students don’t do the assigned work, and he sighs a little. “I really need to do this reading,” he apologizes.

Blaine immediately turns serious, and he says, “No, you should. I’m sorry. School comes first.”

“And you’re practicing, anyway.”

“Yeah.” Blaine touches a few keys without pressing them.

“So I’ll leave you to it?” Kurt takes a step back toward the doors, though it’s the last thing he wants to do. He knows he should, though. He needs to be smart. He can’t lose his head entirely; that way lies madness and the potential for having to transfer yet again, this time due to a restraining order against him for stalking.

“Wait,” Blaine says. “Would my playing bother you? I could struggle through some more Chopin, and you could do your reading here?”

Kurt beams at the suggestion, and he’s filled with relief that he doesn’t have to go anywhere else. So much for not losing his head. “That would be perfect.”

Blaine’s smile in reply is just as bright. “Okay, let’s do that.”

Kurt sits on one of the comfortable leather couches and pulls out his book as Blaine flips through the score and settles back in front of the keys. With a last glance over his shoulder at Kurt, Blaine starts to play, and Kurt can’t help but watch him. Even as he fumbles here and there, his fingers are mesmerizing as they flash over the instrument, and his back is strong and perfect beneath his blazer. Kurt drinks him in for a few minutes, and then he turns to his own work with the music soft in his ears. Somehow he actually reads.

By the time the period is over, Kurt is finished with his reading (or is close enough to fake it), and Blaine’s making no obvious mistakes as he plays. A distant cacophony of feet and voices alerts them that it’s time for the next class, and Blaine rushes through the final stanzas in double time to finish the piece.

“I think you need to work on your tempo at the end there,” Kurt says as he puts his book away and stands up. “Have you considered a metronome?”

Laughing, Blaine turns on the bench and comes over to him. “Everyone’s a critic.”

“Maybe, but _I’m_ actually right.”

Blaine reaches out for his hand, and Kurt’s heart begins to race against his wishes; he’s supposed to be able to stay calm when he wants to. “That was nice,” Blaine says softly, tugging him closer.

“Me criticizing you?” Kurt is aware of the voices in the hallway getting louder, but Blaine’s eyes are pulling him in as strongly as his hand.

“I meant having you here with me while I was playing.”

“It didn’t make you self-conscious?”

“Only in a good way; I wanted to get it right so it wouldn’t hurt your ears,” Blaine replies. “And did you get your reading done?” His eyes drop for a moment to Kurt’s mouth and then flick back up to search Kurt’s eyes.

Kurt nods, suddenly unable to form words. They’re in a public room, and the door is partially open, but just like the first time Blaine kissed him Kurt finds it difficult to care.

“Okay, then we both get a reward for being good.” Moving slowly, Blaine cups Kurt’s cheek and brings their mouths together, and Kurt leans into it without hesitation, anchoring his own hand on Blaine’s lapel. He could lose himself in the faintly coffee-tinged taste of Blaine’s mouth, still so new and yet already so familiar. It’s nothing like Brittany’s lip gloss-flavored kisses; for one, it sends a heat through him that leaves him happily shaken to his core. And it’s _Blaine_ , so it’s both exciting and easy all at once. It feels amazing. It feels right.

Then there’s a shout of laughter far down the hall, and Kurt can’t help but stiffen in Blaine’s arms.

Blaine pulls back, his eyebrows drawn together. “Are you okay?”

“I’m wonderful,” Kurt rushes to assure him.

“Are you sure?”

Kurt nods and glances at the door. “I guess I’m a little jumpy.”

“It’s okay, Kurt. Nobody’s going to bother us,” Blaine tells him. “Well, they might _bother_ us, but they won’t _care_.”

There’s another laugh outside, but this time Kurt keeps his reaction to himself. “I know. It just may take me a little while to get used to it.”

Blaine smiles broadly at him before schooling his expression to something sort of resembling serious. “I know just how to help with that,” he says and kisses Kurt again. This time it’s a lot less gentle, and Kurt’s the one who gets his fingers on Blaine’s jaw and in the hair at the nape of his neck and holds him in place. Blaine makes this little sound deep in his throat and kisses him harder, and Kurt’s head spins with it. He made Blaine do that.

Kurt’s dizzy by the time they pull back; Blaine looks about as amazed as he feels, his eyes dark as they rove over Kurt’s face. A marching band could walk through and Kurt wouldn’t care.

“Oh, yes,” Kurt says faintly. “That will work.”

*

The next Thursday’s Warblers practice is more fractious than usual; they’re all stressed by their schoolwork, and Wes’ suggestion that they consider preparing for Nationals (despite not actually qualifying for it) to tighten up their discipline goes over very poorly. Kurt sips his hand into his bag to find his cell phone to be able dial 911 as Trent turns a disturbing shade of purple in his near apoplexy at the idea. Fortunately no medical intercession is necessary.

The Council is forced to make all sorts of apologies to settle the room, and somehow Blaine gets yet another solo out of it, for what reason Kurt isn’t sure. Given the exciting nursing home performance schedule ahead of them it’s not like they particularly need new material.

Blaine is still arguing the relative merits of Jennifer Lopez and Kelly Rowland with David and Thad by the table as the meeting breaks up and Kurt gathers up his things. He straightens the lapels of his blazer, considers the passion of Blaine's argument for a moment, and decides that they could be there all night.

He lays his hand gently on Blaine’s shoulder and is proud that his stomach only tightens a little from touching him, not enough to call attention to his reaction. “Excuse me,” he says to the group and then addresses Blaine directly. “I’m going to go. Call me later.”

Kurt expects Blaine to agree and send him on his way, but instead Blaine says, “No, wait,” and holds out his hand, palm up to Kurt. Kurt stares at it for a moment. The room is filled with Warblers, Blaine’s in the middle of a conversation about one of his passions, and yet he is just standing there, his hand outstretched, waiting for Kurt. His expression starts out hopeful but begins to shift into something approaching hurt as Kurt continues to stare, aware of all of the eyes on them.

Slowly Kurt places his hand in Blaine’s, not quite sure what’s going on or why but unable to resist the request, and Blaine relaxes back into a smile and turns back to David and Thad.

“I’m just saying, there’s a reason that J. Lo is a superstar, but it takes more guts to try to go out on your own when it seems like one of your former group-mates is automatically going to overshadow you,” Blaine says. “I think we should do Kelly.”

“J. Lo has broader appeal,” David says.

“We could do a medley,” Thad suggests.

“A medley of _J. Lo_ ,” David says more firmly.

Thad rolls his eyes. “You just think she’s hot.”

His shoulders tensing, Blaine draws a breath to argue, and Kurt glances surreptitiously at the time on his phone. He has a pile of reading to do tonight. He wonders how long he’ll have to stand here tethered to Blaine’s hand like his favorite puppy before he can go. “Let’s talk about this tomorrow,” Blaine says instead of continuing the discussion.

Kurt blinks in surprise.

“But - “ David starts.

“I’m walking Kurt to his car,” Blaine says, and though that earns him a lift of David’s eyebrows and a smirk from Thad he just squeezes Kurt’s hand and leads him from the room.

“You didn’t have to leave,” Kurt says once they’re out in the quad. “I’m perfectly capable of walking to my own car.”

Blaine laughs. “I know, but I like to. It’s one of my favorite times of the day.”

“You like saying goodbye to me?” Kurt asks.

“No,” Blaine says gently, shaking his head like Kurt’s missing something very, very obvious. “I like having you with me for five more minutes.”

As a statement it’s bordering on both sappy and dorky, and yet Kurt can feel himself flushing a little with his delight. He hangs onto Blaine’s hand and doesn’t let go even when he leans in and kisses Blaine beside his car for quite a bit longer than just five minutes.

*

Kurt hadn’t thought it was possible to see Blaine more than he had before they were dating, but now it seems like he is _everywhere_. He is waiting at the parking lot in the morning, leaning by the door to Kurt’s classes, sitting by his side during free periods and lunch, dancing around him during Warblers practice, and waving goodbye after he walks Kurt to his car at the end of the day.

It’s not that Kurt is complaining, because he loves to see Blaine, but it does make it hard for him to go through his days without feeling a little overwhelmed. It’s always been true, but it’s so much worse now than it used to be. Being with Blaine is a bit like staring into the sun, only without the danger of retina-burn and premature wrinkles from sun-damaged skin; he’s the brightest thing in Kurt’s life, and when he and Blaine part it leaves Blaine-shaped spots in Kurt’s eyes for a while before he readjusts to the normal light of the world. Then just as he gets back into the rhythm of being without him Blaine pops up again, unexpectedly showing up at his side in the library or on the landing above him in a back stairwell and throwing everything else back into shadow. Kurt doesn’t _mind_ , but he’s been so used to traversing his life largely on his own and without bright lights and giddy flips of his stomach that it’s distracting and unsettling.

Still, if Kurt occasionally takes the long way around the library to get to class to prove to himself that he can, mostly he gives into his desires to see Blaine and lets himself bask in his glow. Why wouldn’t he? He has a boyfriend, and it’s not just any boyfriend but _Blaine_ , who is charming, funny, talented, gentle, attentive, and at times endearingly dorky. Blaine is the sort of person who has people falling at his feet - or he would if he could pick better songs for serenades and better objects for them - but he likes _Kurt_. It is completely and utterly bask-worthy.

So when Blaine is out in the hallway chatting with one of the teachers when Kurt comes out of his last class of the day, Kurt just smiles at him and waits with some amusement for Blaine to be finished charming the socks off of her.

“Hi,” Kurt says when Blaine walks over.

“Hey. How was class?” Blaine asks. They fall into step next to each other as they head toward the outer doors.

“Informative,” Kurt says, because there are teachers around. “And your free period?”

“Boring.”

Kurt raises an eyebrow, and Blaine grins.

“Fine, it was great. Jeff and I played frisbee on the quad.”

“I’m sorry I missed that,” Kurt says dryly, though there’s something very appealing about the thought of watching Blaine running around in his shirtsleeves.

“Anyway, my roommate has an away game this afternoon, so I thought I’d see if you wanted to come hang out,” Blaine says casually, like having an hour alone in his dorm room before practice isn’t pretty much their biggest wish these days.

Kurt wants to be the kind of coy flirt who can keep his boyfriend waiting hopefully at arm’s distance for a bit of attention, but he’s learned very quickly that he is not that person or can’t be for more than a minute at a time. Instead he says, “Okay,” and tries not to grin too much.

Blaine takes his hand and smiles right back as he leads them to his dorm.

They don’t even pretend that they’re going to do anything but make out; Blaine’s toeing off his shoes before the door is even closed, and he sheds his blazer, too, while Kurt is setting down his bag. Then Blaine’s arms are around Kurt and pulling him onto the bed.

“Fancy meeting you here,” Blaine says softly when they’re arranged on their sides next to each other.

This is still so new that Kurt can barely get enough air to reply. He’s sat beside Blaine on his bed many times over the past months while studying together, watching a movie, or just talking, but this closeness of lying beside each other, their bodies inches apart and their breath mingling, is entirely different.

Blaine looks at him for a minute, tracing the corner of Kurt’s mouth with his thumb and staring into his eyes. As wonderful as it is, Kurt also feels unpleasantly exposed. He trusts that Blaine will be careful with whatever he sees, but Kurt knows the strength of his own feelings for Blaine, has known them for so long now, and he doesn’t know _what_ he’s giving away. He’s not used to that.

The drag of Blaine’s thumb of his lip makes Kurt ache, not just physically but more than that. It makes him _feel_ , and it’s wonderful and dangerous all at once. He needs something else, something to anchor him, something to make him feel less like he’s standing on the edge of a precipice, something to make things make sense. “Blaine, kiss me,” he whispers. He could close the distance, himself, but the inches feel like miles.

“In a minute.”

“ _Now_ ,” Kurt tells him as sternly as he can, because he’s going to start trembling in a minute, and it’s going to make Blaine ask him questions instead of just _kissing him_. “Or I’m going to take matters into my own hands.”

“Or your own lips? We can’t have that.” Blaine’s mouth lifts into a smile, and then he leans in and is _finally_ where Kurt needs him to be. The kiss eases the sharp edges of his nerves and gives him something much better to focus on. There’s nothing to worry about when kissing Blaine, because nothing else matters. It’s such a cliche, but it’s still true, because Blaine kisses and kisses him, making these incredible noises when their tongues touch or Kurt’s fingers tease the warm skin of his throat, and Kurt doesn’t want to think about anything else. He can just _be_ there.

He’s pretty sure he’s smiling against Blaine’s mouth, but it’s still perfect. He keeps his touches loose and light, because a part of him is desperate to grab and hang on, and he doesn’t want to give in. He wants to be in control of every single part of himself. He wants to be able to enjoy it all.

It’s amazing to feel this close, to be welcome in the circle of someone’s arms, to be able to press his fingers against Blaine’s waist and get a shudder and a hard kiss in return. He’s almost afraid to move his hand, because this much is overwhelming. It’s not just how incredible Blaine’s body feels that threatens Kurt’s calm center but also that he can experience it at all. His breath catches, and he forces his hand not to shake where it lies flat on Blaine’s side. He’s wanted this so badly. He’s wanted Blaine so badly. It’s almost too much.

“You can touch me, Kurt; I won’t break,” Blaine breathes in his ear, nuzzling against his cheek.

 _I might_ , Kurt thinks as he lets his hand slip up the firm planes of Blaine’s back and feels the world tilt around him with the wonder of it, but he knows it isn’t true. Bullying and loneliness tried their best but couldn’t break him. Joy never will.

*

Kurt realizes very quickly that Blaine likes to be a gentleman. He holds doors, he walks on the inside in the halls or on sidewalks so Kurt doesn’t get jostled by passersby, and he even orders Kurt’s coffee for him at the Lima Bean, though that’s hardly a new development. He wouldn’t be surprised if Blaine tried to hand him out of a car or push an elevator button for him if the opportunity arose. Kurt has always been impressed by Blaine’s manners, so it isn’t really a cause for complaint, except that it’s kind of odd to have someone hold every single door for you. He’s sure it’s weird for girls, too, but he is _not_ a girl. He’d never expected anyone to hold a door for him, at least not _all_ the time, and he’s fairly certain dating hasn’t cost him the use of his arms.

Kurt tries to write it off as one of those somewhat annoying but ultimately charming things that Blaine does, like jumping on furniture or turning straw wrappers into oddly proportioned paper animals. It’s just what Blaine does. He makes faces while singing, he waxes poetic over bubblegum pop, and he opens doors. It _is_ charming. Occasionally it even makes Kurt’s heart flip like it did the first few times with how special it feels that Blaine is making the effort.

Still, despite his best efforts, it also continues to annoy him, especially when if Kurt looks like he’s going to reach the door first Blaine darts ahead like a jackrabbit to open it anyway. It’s supposed to be nice, but it’s actually infuriating. It may even be a little demeaning. He’s not the girl in this relationship, and even if he were female he could get his own damn door. Kurt feels an odd sense of camaraderie with Gloria Steinem.

Taking matters into his own hands, Kurt deliberately tries to put his longer stride to good use to get to doors first, and he nearly gets bowled over for his troubles every time until he gives up on the experiment. Clearly, Blaine is on a mission.

So Kurt endures until one Monday afternoon a couple of weeks into their relationship when he just can’t stand it anymore and stops dead in the path leading up to the library. Blaine, who has already taken a few steps forward to reach for the door, turns back to look at him with concern.

“If you touch that door you’d better be walking through it immediately afterwards,” Kurt tells him.

Blaine blinks at him. “Uh... what?”

“I am perfectly capable of opening my own doors, Blaine.”

“Okay,” Blaine says slowly. He slides his hands into the pockets of his coat and frowns a little. “I never said you weren’t.”

“And yet you open every single one for me like I’ve been in some horrible accident and have had my arms amputated. Yesterday you even pulled one out of my hand. It almost hit me in the face.”

Blaine’s eyes widen in what seems to be a combination of dismay and amusement. The dismay wins out, and he says, “I’m trying to be chivalrous.”

“There’s being chivalrous, and there’s just being annoying.”

“It’s annoying that I hold doors for you?” Blaine asks.

“Most of the time, yes.”

Blaine sighs and looks away out over the quad. “I told you I wasn’t any good at romance,” he says, and Kurt realizes that he’s stumbled into a far deeper discussion than just his frustration over holding doors.

“I have no problems with your romantic abilities,” Kurt tells him more gently.

“Obviously you do.” Blaine gestures with some frustration to the library door ahead of them.

“No, that’s - “ Kurt breaks off and tries to touch closer to the heart of the issue, because if they’re going to do this is should be about the actual topic at hand. “You’re not the only man in this relationship.”

That gets Blaine’s attention; his head snaps back around to Kurt. “What? I know that.”

“And yet your notion of chivalry casts me in the female role. Next you’ll be putting your coat over a puddle or asking to carry my books.”

“Like you’d let me ruin a coat.”

“It depends on the coat; it could be a mercy killing.” Kurt considers what Blaine didn’t say. “You’re not denying the books?”

Blaine scrunches up his face like he’s embarrassed. “I was pretty sure you’d laugh at me if I asked.”

“Why would you want to carry my books?”

“I don’t know. It’s how I was brought up. Isn’t that what boyfriends do?”

Kurt levels a flat stare at him. “Blaine. I am also a boyfriend.”

“I know,” Blaine says, clearly confused.

“Did it ever cross your mind that _I_ might like to do some of these things? Maybe _I’d_ like to hold open a door for _you_?”

Blaine opens his mouth and then closes it again. “I - Oh.”

Blaine looks so sheepish that Kurt can’t help but laugh. “Yes, oh.”

“I’m sorry. I was just trying to be a good boyfriend.”

“I know.” Kurt steps closer, touching Blaine’s arm. The relieved smile he gets in return sends a thrill up his spine. “And you are. But I’m pretty sure that even if I _were_ a girl I’d still be annoyed at being deemed incapable of opening a door for you at least once in a while.”

“So chivalry isn’t dead; it’s equal opportunity?”

“Exactly.”

Blaine smiles even more. “I can do that.”

“Excellent. Although I draw the line at putting _my_ coat over a puddle,” Kurt says as he fusses a little with the drape of his scarf. “That moves from chivalry into insanity.”

Blaine looks down at his feet before meeting Kurt’s eyes again. “So if - I mean, I was thinking about asking you out on a date. A real one, where I make the plans and pick you up and pay and everything. That would still be okay, right?”

Kurt can’t answer for a minute, because his breath is completely gone. His _boyfriend_ wants to take him on an actual _date_ , and not only is this worlds away from his life a mere few weeks ago when did he not expect any of this to happen before he went to college but also - and even more importantly - he has _nothing to wear_. Then he clears his throat and says, “Only if I get to ask you out, too, for some other day.”

Blaine looks as delighted as Kurt feels, and he immediately nods. “Absolutely.”

“Then that would be fine.” It would be _amazing_ , actually. They get to go on _dates_. Kurt’s mind begins to sort through a million ideas. Most of them are about wardrobe.

“I think this is going to work out really well,” Blaine says, and Kurt grins back at him, completely in agreement.

“All right. Then let’s get started. May I?” Kurt gestures to the door.

“By all means.”

Kurt enjoys the freedom to walk to the door and open it without the fear of being knocked over, and he holds it while Blaine walks through. Blaine smiles at him over his shoulder, and Kurt’s heart flips in reply.

Oh, yes, this is going to work out really well.

*

“And then Mr. Schue split the part in two and gave half the lines to Rachel on top of the ones she already had,” Tina says with a sigh as she sinks into her seat across from Kurt as they take a table at the Lima Bean. “I’m really tired of having to fight for every solo.”

“At least you get a solo from time to time, unlike others of us,” Kurt says, raising his eyebrow pointedly at Blaine.

Blaine nudges his arm. “Hey, we had a duet. At Regionals and everything.”

Kurt can’t help but smile at him, but he says to Tina, “I know how you feel. Mr. Schue’s methods are illogical at best. Just keep fighting, because you know Rachel will.”

“I will,” she replies.

“What about you?” Blaine asks Mike.

“What about me what?” Mike asks.

“Do you have to fight for solos against Finn and Sam?”

Mike shakes his head, his eyes going wide. He picks up his cup like he can hide behind it. “I don’t want a solo.”

“You don’t want a solo?” Blaine tries out the words as though they were in a foreign language. Kurt supposes in Blaine’s world they are, not that Kurt doesn’t want every solo, too.

“Mike doesn’t really like to sing,” Tina tells him. “He doesn’t think he can.”

“I can’t,” Mike says.

“Yes, you can,” Tina says.

“Everybody can sing,” Blaine insists.

Mike shakes his head again. “No, it’s okay. I’m happy dancing.”

Blaine sets down his coffee and rests his arms on the table, leaning forward toward Mike. “Don’t sell yourself short,” he says. “I know there is some amazing talent in New Directions, but that doesn’t mean you can’t hold your own. I’ve seen you dance, Mike. You have the rhythm and musical aptitude in your bones. You can sing. You just don’t know it.”

“That’s what I’ve been telling him,” Tina says.

“I - “ Mike begins.

“Trust me,” Blaine says in his mentor voice, and Kurt laughs under his breath and turns away from them and toward Tina.

“By the time we go home Mike will be as big of a solo hog as Rachel,” Kurt says to her. “Blaine’s on a mission.”

Tina watches Blaine give his earnest and impassioned speech for a minute or two and then says, “It’s kind of nice of him.”

Kurt shrugs, though he does have to agree. Blaine might be misguided about it sometimes, but he does seem to want to bring out the best in people. “Only because Mike won’t be taking _his_ solos.”

Tina laughs. “He’s not that bad.”

“You have _no_ idea. He can throw a hissy fit that puts Rachel to shame. Yelling, swearing, breaking things. Once he even got a hair out of place.” He smiles fondly at Blaine, who is entirely unaware of how he is being maligned.

“I don’t believe you,” Tina says.

Kurt sips at his coffee and makes himself look away from Blaine’s handsome profile. “I knew the hair comment was a step too far. No, he’s not a drama queen. He just manages to wrap people around his little finger to give him everything he wants.” _Even me_ , he thinks.

Reaching across to touch Kurt’s hand, Tina says softly, “I like him, Kurt.” She squeezes a little, like she’s trying to encourage him.

He tries not to look as startled as he feels. He has certainly vented to his friends from time to time over the months about the ups and downs of their friendship and non-relationship, but he hasn’t really expected their _approval_ of any of it. He knows they support him, but he hadn’t considered they’d support _them_. He doesn’t know why it hadn’t occurred to him. It feels surprisingly good.

Kurt glances over at Blaine, who is still sitting forward in his seat, his eyes fixed firmly on Mike’s face as they talk. His leg, however, is pressed from ankle to knee against Kurt’s under the table. He seems wholly focused on Mike and the matter at hand, but some part of him is still Kurt’s beneath it all.

“I do, too,” Kurt admits just as quietly.

Tina squeezes his hand again and smiles at him, her whole face lighting up, and Kurt finds himself smiling back.

*

Kurt is amazed to learn that Blaine likes to be kissed. Not that Kurt doesn’t like kissing, because with the right person it turns out there’s very little not to like, but Blaine _really_ likes it. Maybe Kurt should have figured that out by how much Blaine had enjoyed making out with Rachel while drunk, but it’s one thing to watch it and another thing to experience it as the other person in the couple. Blaine sinks into it and seems content to spend hours exploring Kurt’s mouth. He holds Kurt close and breathes out these amazing soft moans against his lips, but mostly he just kisses and kisses until their mouths are sore with it, and yet they don’t stop until they’re forced to.

Obviously, Kurt is very okay with this plan, except that kissing isn’t enough. He wouldn’t consider himself starved for touch _per se_ , but being near Blaine is very different from hugging his dad or curling up beside Mercedes on her bed while they watch movies. Kurt wants to touch more than his mouth. Not only is it _Blaine_ , which engenders all sorts of new feelings, but Blaine _likes_ it when Kurt touches him and seems more than happy to let Kurt do whatever he wants. It’s this heady freedom, a level of trust and want that Kurt has never had directed at him before. It’s thrilling. It’s intoxicating. It drives him just a little bit crazy with the power he holds in his hands. So Kurt takes every opportunity he can to touch Blaine’s hair, kiss his throat, and flick open a few buttons on his shirt to nuzzle into the warmth trapped there. He cups Blaine’s jaw and traces along the line of his hair. He runs his hands up Blaine’s arms and down his chest. He presses his fingers into Blaine’s back to feel the muscles flex beneath them. He does it because he loves it. He does it because he loves it and he _can_.

It’s not that Blaine doesn’t reciprocate, because he’s a very willing participant, but he doesn’t push. He keeps his hands respectful as they rove and gives Kurt the chance to do what he likes. Kurt doesn’t mind at all, since he can tell by the way Blaine comes alive with it that that he also is more than happy with every bit of Kurt’s attention.

It isn’t usually until they’re both already breathless that Blaine intensifies things, himself, like Sunday afternoon in Kurt’s bed while his parents are out for a little while, when Blaine finally rolls halfway on top of him and pins him to the mattress, which is just as good in an entirely different way for Kurt. Blaine is solid and strong, and Kurt is dizzy with how good Blaine’s weight feels against his chest and how warm his mouth his beneath Kurt’s ear. He wonders how he lived before he felt these things, though maybe he really wasn’t living after all. It’s not just the physical sensations, though they are definitely amazing, but it’s also that Blaine _wants him_. Blaine wants Kurt to touch him, and he wants to touch right back. It makes Kurt’s heart fill with joy and rise into his throat, and he can barely draw a breath around it.

So of course Blaine ruins the moment in an instant by tugging at Kurt’s collar and saying, “I hate your clothes.”

Kurt is off the bed before he can blink. He stares at Blaine and feels like he might be violently ill.

Blaine rolls onto his elbow and gapes at him, his eyes dark and glassy. “Hey!” He reaches out toward Kurt, but Kurt takes another step back.

“ _What_?” Trying to breathe, Kurt tells himself that he must have mis-heard, except that he knows he didn’t. He’ll probably replay those horrible words in his nightmares for years. It’s an insult. It’s a betrayal. It’s a rejection of him and nearly everything he holds dear.

“What?” Blaine asks.

“You _hate_ my _clothes_?” Kurt blinks back tears. He is not going to cry over this. He isn’t. If he has so greatly misjudged Blaine, then he doesn’t deserve Kurt’s tears. He deserves Kurt’s pity, because he clearly doesn’t know what he’s talking about and will be mired in uninspired mall trends for the rest of his life. His long, long life without Kurt in it.

“Yes. _No_. No!” Blaine sits up and looks around Kurt’s room like he’s trying to remember where he is. He takes a shuddering breath and continues, “No, I do not hate your clothes. I love how you dress.” He gestures at Kurt’s outfit, which is, as always, spectacular. “Your style is impeccable and perfectly you.”

“Then why would you say something so awful?” Kurt asks, because swift backtracking doesn’t change what Blaine said before.

“I wasn’t thinking,” Blaine tells him, looking a little desperate. “I didn’t mean it like that. Really, Kurt.”

Kurt crosses his arms over his chest. “How _did_ you mean it?”

Blaine rises slowly from the bed and walks over to him. “I love your clothes,” he says more softly, trailing a tentative finger down the side of Kurt’s throat. It feels amazing, but Kurt doesn’t let it sway him. There are more important issues here. “What I don’t like is being chaperoned by your bow tie.” Blaine taps it. Kurt can feel it go just slightly askew, and he reaches up to straighten it.

Blaine captures his hand and says earnestly, “I’m not trying to rush you or pressure you or go faster than either of us wants. But it might be nice, at least from my point of view, if I could catch even a glimpse of your collarbone.”

Kurt brings his other hand up to his chest, covering the area in question hidden beneath the fabric of his shirt. “I just wanted to look good.” He’d spent twenty minutes that morning simply picking out the perfect tie to go with his shirt, and even his socks complement the accent tones in his them. Not that he’s taken off his boots, but these are important details. Blaine sees him so much in his Dalton uniform that it is even more vital that every bit of his outfit be perfect when he is able to wear something other than a navy blazer.

“You do,” Blaine insists. “You always do.” His eyes are fixed on Kurt’s face as he slides his hand along Kurt’s arm to his cuff. Slowly, he slips free Kurt’s cuff link, one of the vintage pair he picked up last week. The abstract initials hidden in their art deco design are K and B, and Kurt bought a French cuff shirt specifically so he could wear them, not that Blaine knows any of that. It’s the sort of flight of sartorial fancy that Kurt isn’t quite sure he should share. He watches as Blaine places the cuff link carefully on the bedside table, and Kurt makes sure it’s not in any danger of getting knocked off and lost before looking back at Blaine’s hand.

“But I’m not ashamed of saying I like seeing you,” Blaine continues. “I like touching you.”

Blaine’s fingers are warm against his skin and calloused in a way that makes their drag go right through Kurt’s veins to vibrate through the rest of his body. “I hadn’t even thought about that,” Kurt says. He’s never considered his clothing as a barrier, at least not in the sense that it could be _problematic_. But then he’s never had anyone who was interested in what was beneath. He feels the world shift beneath him, the foundations of his life being remade.

Blaine slides two fingers inside Kurt’s cuff, sending shivers up his arm. “Is this okay?“

Kurt gives him a shaky nod and watches Blaine’s eyes go even darker.

“How about this?” Blaine slides Kurt’s sleeve up a little and waits with his mouth hovering just above the bend of Kurt’s arm. His breath makes the hair on Kurt’s arms stand on end, and his eyes are full of questions.

Kurt may utterly captivated by Blaine, but he isn’t going to admit it that easily. He jerks his chin up and says as haughtily as he can manage, “Let’s try it and see.”

Blaine grins up at him as he presses a soft, open-mouthed kiss to Kurt’s skin between the wings of his cuff, and the gentle intimacy of his dark head bent over his arm is enough to make Kurt’s heart ache. He drinks in the sensation of Blaine’s mouth moving over him, and when he feels like he’s going to burst with it he pushes Blaine back on the bed and tastes Blaine’s laughter for himself. And Blaine lets him. Blaine lets him.

*

Kurt inspects the sweep of his hair for the third time in the visor mirror before snapping it closed and telling himself he’s being foolish. He’s put together thousands of outfits for himself and for other people, and he’s brilliant at it. Just because this one has a slightly different goal doesn’t mean that it isn’t perfect. His shirt is tailored superbly, its sleeves ending just above the elbow. It doesn’t need a tie to be impeccable.

Still, although he’s always dressed to attract attention, this is a whole new kind of attention he hasn’t really wanted before, or at least hasn’t quite felt safe wanting. Now, with Blaine, he does. He wants to get it right.

Minutes are passing by as he sits in his car and fidgets with the set of his collar; he’s only going to be later the longer he stalls. So he gets out of the car and walks into the Lima Bean with as much confidence as he can fake; he knows Blaine will be there waiting for him, and he needs to project the right image.

Blaine’s fiddling with his phone in the corner, two cups of coffee waiting on the table in front of him, and his eyes go wide when he sees Kurt across the room. He fumbles his phone into his pocket as he takes Kurt in from head to toe, and the bounce in Kurt’s step suddenly feels a lot less forced.

“You are _incredible_ ,” Blaine tells him, stretching out his hand to take Kurt’s even before he’s seated. There’s a rough edge to his voice that’s usually only there after he’s been kissing Kurt for a while, and he holds Kurt’s hand just a little too tightly.

He looks bowled over, and Kurt searches his eyes for any pretense, because he thought it was a good outfit, but then he also likes his vests and bow ties. Blaine appears to be telling the truth, though, if the way his eyes linger on Kurt’s arms and the hollow of his throat are any indication. Kurt’s not sure Blaine is actually blinking.

 _Oh._ Kurt relaxes back in his chair with no small measure of relief and a fair bit of pride. He chose well. Very well.

“I’m a fast learner,” he says, feeling pleased with himself. It’s a whole new world here, dressing for a boyfriend and not just for himself. Not that he’s going to wear anything he doesn’t want to, but now he has yet another way to express himself through clothing... and a new way to get a reaction from Blaine.

Blaine swallows hard but doesn’t seem to be able to look away. “You definitely are.”

Blaine is in _so_ much trouble, Kurt realizes. It’s thrilling. Kurt can’t wait.

*

The problem with being teenagers, besides protective parents and limited clothing budgets, is that they just don’t have a good, reliable, private space to spend time together. Kurt’s house has his family, Blaine’s dorm room has a roommate, Dalton has teachers, librarians, and proctors, and pretty much everywhere else is, well, public. So while Kurt and Blaine spend as much time as they can steal in private, they are also forced out into the rest of the world quite a bit.

Kurt hates it. It’s not that he doesn’t like to go out, because obviously shopping is one of his passions and sitting across the table at a restaurant with Blaine is so amazing and perfect that his heart skips a beat just _thinking_ about it, but there’s something exceptionally special about the world just being the two of them in a space with no one else. Even apart from the freedom it gives them to learn about each other and themselves, being alone with Blaine makes Kurt feel happier and somehow safer than he has since he was a child, when nothing really mattered but his parents and the love in their home. He hadn’t expected to feel anything like that kind of peace ever again. He hadn't thought it was even possible. Maybe not for anyone, but certainly not for him. Except it is. It's wonderful. He gets some of it just by being with Blaine anywhere, and he doesn’t need it every minute of the day, but if he’s honest he wouldn’t _mind_.

There aren't a lot of opportunities for them to be alone in private, so the few they do get are precious. Tonight was supposed to have been one of them. Unfortunately, Carole threw out her back yesterday, so instead of going out with Kurt’s dad tonight and leaving Finn and Kurt to their own amusements (playing video games in his room with Puck and watching a movie and making out on the couch with Blaine, respectively and quite separately) she’s lying on the couch, and Burt has taken the day off to help her. It completely foils Kurt’s plans for a quiet but dreamy night at home.

He’s used to pitching in, though, and he sighs away his regrets and readjusts his afternoon plans to include putting something together for dinner. Of course, when he goes into the cabinet to find the panko breadcrumbs almost gone he realizes that they must have been what Finn had been complaining about as “the most tasteless cereal ever” the other day.

Kurt rolls his eyes and quickly texts Blaine. _Change of plans yet again. Grocery shopping, then cooking. Finn ate the panko for breakfast._

Two texts from Blaine almost immediately follow: _Why?!_ and then _Never mind. I know I shouldn’t ask. Want me to pick up some at the store? I was planning to stop, anyway._

 _That would be wonderful. Thank you_ , Kurt texts back.

 _Need anything else?_

Kurt pokes his head into the refrigerator to see what else Finn might have decimated. _A bunch of celery, three leeks, and a step-brother who doesn’t eat first and read labels second._

 _I’m not sure they sell the third one, but celery and leeks I can get. xx_ is Blaine’s reply, and Kurt smiles as he pockets his phone. He doesn’t know if Blaine even knows what a leek looks like, but he knows he’ll ask someone if he gets confused. It’s nice to be able to depend on him.

Kurt is still busy cutting up chicken when the doorbell rings, so he is forced to wash his hands and let Finn get the door. When he goes out into the living room to save his boyfriend from his family, though, he finds Blaine standing by the couch with an enormous bouquet of mixed flowers in various shades of pink, and if the actual arrangement lacks refinement Kurt stops dead in the doorway and forgets to breathe for a minute because _Blaine is holding flowers_. Kurt doesn’t know what to do with himself. He clenches his hands at his sides so that they don’t flutter around and ignores the buzzing in his ears. It’s probably from lack of oxygen, because he really, truly can’t figure out how to draw a breath. Blaine has _flowers_.

Then Blaine hands them with a charming smile to Carole, who coos over them, and Kurt’s world returns to normal with a thud. He swallows and inhales slowly. Of course the flowers weren’t for him. Blaine bought them for Carole, and it’s a lovely gesture. It’s what you do when visiting someone who is hurt. That makes so much more sense. He shouldn’t be disappointed; he _isn’t_ disappointed. This makes more sense. Besides, they really are an uncoordinated riot of shades and textures.

“Thank you, Blaine. They’re beautiful,” Carole says and hands the flowers to Finn, who stands there staring at them awkwardly for a second before galumphing past Kurt to get a vase.

“There’s more,” Blaine says. He catches sight of Kurt and flashes him a smile before digging into the paper bag. “I got a sudoku book and some crosswords, too. Just so you don’t get bored.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” Carole says. She looks so touched, though, and Kurt can’t help but smile a little that _his_ boyfriend was so sweet and thoughtful.

“It was my pleasure. There’s only so much TV you can watch, you know?” Blaine shrugs.

“Especially when I have to share the remote,” Carole agrees, gesturing at her family around her.

“Exactly.” Blaine stands up and says, “Now, I believe I should deliver these groceries before the chef gets mad and comes after me with a knife for delaying dinner."

Carole glances over at Kurt and says, "I don't think you have to worry about that."

"No," Kurt agrees, "my methods would require far less bloodshed. Finn makes enough messes to clean up."

"Hey - " Finn starts; he backs down as soon as Kurt raises an eyebrow at him.

"I'm not sure that's comforting," Blaine says, but he follows Kurt into the kitchen anyway and puts the bag down on the counter where Kurt points. He crosses to the other side of the kitchen and leans against the cabinets, out of the way.

“Thank you,” Kurt says about the groceries. His stomach flutters when Blaine smiles at him, the way it always does. “I may need to start labeling things ‘Not for Finn’ so that he doesn’t eat them.”

“Wouldn’t it be more efficient to label what he _can_ eat?” Blaine asks. He’s vibrating a little, not quite bouncing on his toes, like he does when he has extra energy he can’t get out. Usually that means Kurt has an impromptu serenade in his future, and he hopes Blaine doesn’t pick anything too embarrassing to sing.

Kurt shakes his head and pulls out a clean cutting board. “That would require him to notice that something _doesn’t_ have his name on it. I think that’s stretching things, don’t you?”

“Probably,” Blaine agrees with a laugh. When Kurt pulls a knife out of the block, Blaine puts his hands up and backs away a few steps. “Hey, I said I was sorry for not coming directly into the kitchen with the leeks.”

“Actually, you didn’t.”

Blaine gives him his best puppy eyes, which are admittedly _very_ good, and says, “I’m sorry.”

Kurt snorts, but he smiles, too. He can’t help it. His boyfriend is ridiculous, and for some reason he _likes_ it. “Much better.” He lays the knife down on the cutting board and crosses the few feet of floor between them. “It was sweet,” he says. “Bringing the flowers and books to Carole.”

Shrugging and looking mildly self-conscious, Blaine says, “I broke a couple of bones in my foot when I was a kid and had to spend a lot of my summer with my foot in a cast. I remember getting sick of cartoons, and I hadn’t thought that was possible.”

“See? Sweet.” Kurt leans in to brush their mouths together, very aware that his family is right there in the next room. His blood starts to hum in his veins even with such a brief contact, but it’s all he’ll allow himself.

Blaine lets out a little, awkward laugh. “I’m glad you think so,” he says.

“What’s going on?” Kurt asks, scrutinizing Blaine’s face and taking in the slight flush in his cheeks, shifty eyes, and sheepish smile. Yes, something is going on.

“Why do you - “

“Blaine.”

Blaine just gestures at the bag of groceries on the other side of the kitchen. He shoves his hands in the pockets of his cardigan and watches as Kurt goes to investigate. Had he forgotten the celery? Had he forgotten the _panko_? Kurt’s mind starts to spin through various other dinner options and then screeches to a complete stop. _Oh_.

There, nestled among the leeks, is a single perfect red rose. Kurt pulls it out carefully and stares at it. Blaine brought him a rose. Blaine brought him a flawless, elegant crimson rose.

“Is it weird?” Blaine asks without a hint of his usual confidence. “Me bringing you flowers? Okay, _a_ flower, but - ”

Kurt shakes his head, not taking his eyes off of the velvety petals. They’re just beginning to open. The flower will last _days_ before it starts to degrade, longer if he refreshes the water and puts in a little bit of sugar. Maybe he’ll dry the petals when the rose is past its prime. He has the perfect little glass-topped box with pierced wooden sides to keep them in. If he moves things around a little, he could keep it on his dressing table. He hasn’t been happy with his bottle arrangement for some time now.

“I thought you might think it was weird,” Blaine continues, oblivious to the workings of Kurt’s mind. “Or a cliche. Or both. I was betting on both.”

“No,” Kurt tells him, barely able to get his voice louder than a whisper. He looks away from the flower then and meets Blaine’s eyes. “No. It’s lovely. The flower, the gesture, all of it.”

The worry flies out of Blaine’s expression, and he gives Kurt the sort of warm, delighted smile Kurt knows he should be giving _him_ if only he weren’t so stunned.

“Thank you,” Kurt tells him, and he’s about to write off his family and go kiss Blaine again when Finn walks into the kitchen.

“Hey, another flower,” he says. “Did that fall out of my mom’s bouquet?”

When Finn reaches out for it, Kurt pulls the rose back against his chest. “No, this one is for me.”

“Oh.” Finn frowns a little, looks back and forth between the two of them, and says, “Okay.” He peeks into the bag beside Kurt. “Celery! Awesome!”

“Hands off,” Kurt says, smacking Finn’s fingers with his free hand.

Finn’s shoulders slump. “I’m hungry.”

“Dinner will be in forty-five minutes,” Kurt tells him. “If you stay out of the way. You know I don’t like people standing around while I cook.”

“Blaine’s standing around,” Finn says, like Blaine doesn’t get an automatic free pass because he’s Kurt’s boyfriend. Sometimes he misses the point entirely, Kurt thinks.

“For one, he is very good about being where I’m not. Also, he isn’t seven feet tall.”

“Wait, should I be pleased or offended by that?” Blaine asks.

“Pleased,” Kurt tells him.

“Fine.” With one last, curious look at the rose, Finn goes back into the living room. Even his obvious confusion about it can’t dim Kurt’s joy.

“Let me get a vase,” Kurt says, reaching up into one of the high shelves for the tall cut-glass bud vase he has in mind. He has to strain up onto the very tips of his toes to get near it, and it slips away from his fingertips twice before he gets hold.

“Maybe you shouldn’t have sent Finn away so quickly,” Blaine says with a chuckle.

“Are you kidding me? I’m not letting him anywhere near this vase; it was my mother’s favorite.” Kurt fills it with water and uses the kitchen shears to snip off the end of the stem. When the flower is in the vase, it is even more perfectly simple and elegant. It will go in his room tonight, but for now he places it on the windowsill so that he can enjoy it while they cook. He doesn’t want it out of his sight.

“It’s really not weird?” Blaine asks softly, hopefully.

Kurt shakes his head and promises, “It’s perfect.”

Blaine smiles so warmly that Kurt just knows in the next five seconds he’s going to end up in Blaine’s arms, and they’re either going to get pulled apart by his father or they’re going to forget dinner entirely. He flicks his eyes toward the living room and then turns back to the groceries with a sigh.

“So how did your break your foot?” Kurt asks as he pulls out the leeks, trying to regain some sense of normalcy, because otherwise there’s no way they’re going to make it through the afternoon. Maybe they can go for a walk after dinner, just to have a little time together.

“Um.” Blaine ducks his head with a self-conscious laugh. “I jumped off the couch and clipped the edge of the coffee table.”

“I can see you learned your lesson,” Kurt says, more amused than he really should be by a story about his boyfriend getting injured.

“Hey, I’ve never hit a coffee table again.”

Kurt shakes his head and smiles over at him. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Is that a bad thing?” Blaine asks.

Kurt glances up at his rose on the windowsill. “Not at all,” he says.

*

Tuesdays are both a good and a bad day for Kurt. On the one hand, his schedule and Blaine’s don’t mesh up at all, so Kurt has much of the day to live his life without the blinding presence of his boyfriend. He gets to be Kurt, autonomous and not just the taller and less exuberant half of a couple. He likes himself, and he’s spent too many years standing on his own not to like an occasional reminder that he still can. So Tuesdays are good. On the other hand, he doesn’t get to see _Blaine_ , and that makes Tuesdays _far_ less enjoyable.

When he hears footsteps thundering up behind him on Tuesday as he walks between buildings after third period, he doesn’t think much of them. Dalton is, after all, a school full of boys; they might be wearing uniforms, but they still have far too much energy to be tamed into walking. Kurt simply moves to the side of the path and continues on.

Then hands land heavily on his shoulders, and he finds himself being spun around. He braces for impact with the gut-wrenching instinct of years of public school, but when he sees his attacker his heart leaps into his throat. It’s not because he’s going to be slushied or shoved into anything; it’s because the hands belong to Blaine.

“Hi, Kurt,” Blaine says, a little out of breath from his run. He leans in and presses a soft, chaste kiss to Kurt’s lips before pulling back.

Kurt’s hand flies to his mouth, and he gapes at his boyfriend.

Laughing at whatever he sees in Kurt’s face, which is probably some embarrassing combination of shock and delight, Blaine dances backwards a few steps and says, “Got to get to class. Bye, Kurt!” And with that, he turns and runs off at full speed, leaving Kurt standing in the path as students flow around him and wondering with no little amazement how this is his life. Blaine had run all the way across campus and back just to say hello and kiss him. _Him_.

It isn’t until someone accidentally jostles Kurt with his backpack that he’s able to make his own feet move again. He’s so dazed that he’s not quite sure they touch the ground until he reaches his class.

*

Kurt has taken to studying in the common room during his free periods instead of the library if he has reading to do. For one, he can have a cup of coffee at his side, which makes everything in life go more smoothly. The couches are also more comfortable than the wooden library chairs. And then there’s the fact that when Blaine seeks him out, as he almost always does, they keep their voices down because they like the intimacy of it, not because they have to. It’s way better than the library in so many ways.

Blaine flops down on the couch beside him the next week, closing his eyes and rubbing the heels of his hands against them. “If I have to memorize another equation I think my brain is going to declare itself full and shut down entirely.”

Kurt sets his book on his lap and watches him with sympathy. “When’s your mid-term?”

“Tomorrow.” Blaine lowers his hands and looks over at Kurt. He smiles when his eyes focus. “Hi.”

Kurt smiles back and is proud when his skin only prickles a little at the warmth of Blaine’s gaze. He may actually be getting used to it. “Hello.”

“You know, school would be a lot more fun without tests.”

“Yes, and then it wouldn’t be school,” Kurt says. “It would be camp.”

“I liked camp. I even went back as a junior counselor one year. I got to teach swimming.” He laughs a little. “Once unexpectedly in the middle of the lake when my canoe flipped.”

Kurt imagines a curly-haired boy tipping over in a canoe, his nose sunburned and his hazel eyes full of joy, and his chest clenches a little. “Of course you did.”

“You didn’t like camp?” Blaine asks.

Kurt thinks of his own summers coming up with inspiration boards for redecorating the living room while he sat in the office at his dad’s garage between impromptu lessons in car repair. “I didn’t go to camp.”

“Oh.” Blaine doesn’t seem to know what to say to that, which is okay because _Kurt_ doesn’t know what to say to that, but he does reach out and take Kurt’s hand, stroking his thumb over the back of Kurt’s fingers and distracting him from the topic. “What are you reading?” Blaine asks after a minute.

“Molière,” Kurt says. “I have to write an essay on it tonight.”

“I have one due Friday on _Pilgrim’s Progress_.” Groaning, Blaine lets his head fall back on the cushions.

There are only a few other students in the room, and they’re focused on their own work, so Kurt leans in and brushes his fingers along Blaine’s temple. “It’ll all be over by the weekend,” he reminds him softly. “We can do something nice to celebrate, if you want.”

Blaine tips his head into Kurt’s touch, and his eyes flutter shut. “If we survive.” He lets out a soft sigh.

“You’d better survive. If I’m going to be planning a spectacular date, I’ll be very upset if my boyfriend isn’t there to enjoy it with me.” Blaine’s skin is warm and smooth, and Kurt strokes the fine wisps of hair at the edge of his hairline back into place.

“We can’t have that,” Blaine says. He opens his eyes and looks up into Kurt’s with startling intensity. Kurt’s fingers still in his surprise. “But, really, Kurt, do you mind if we just do something quiet? I mean, nobody likes spectacular more than I do except maybe you, but I can’t think of what I’d look forward to more this week than having dinner with you and curling up on your couch for a movie. Just the two of us? Please?”

Kurt blinks back his shock. It’s such a simple request, but he didn’t expect it. He enjoys their time together, whatever they’re doing, but for Blaine to go out of his way to ask for some quiet time alone is quite another thing. It makes his heart feel funny in his chest, like it’s filling and growing and pressing the air out of his lungs. Blaine likes him. Kurt _knows_ that, because they’ve been best friends for months now, but still. Blaine’s having a hard week, and what he wants to relax is some quiet time with _him_.

“Is that okay?” Blaine asks with some concern, and Kurt realizes he hasn’t answered. “I mean, I don’t mind going out. We can go out. Do you want to go out?”

Kurt strokes his fingertips down Blaine’s cheek and shakes his head. “Don’t be silly. We’ll stay in,” he says softly, and Blaine smiles up at him with joy, relief, and something Kurt doesn’t dare call adoration rolled into one.

*

Blaine has the longest and fullest eyelashes in the world.

Kurt knows objectively that this statement is probably not true, but if there is anyone with longer and fuller eyelashes Kurt thinks that he or she must have problems blinking from the weight of them. False eyelashes would be lost on Blaine, literally lost.

Kurt sighs to himself for being ridiculous and tries to focus on the movie, but his eyes keep being drawn back to Blaine’s face where it rests against Kurt’s shoulder. Blaine looks peaceful, his eyes closed and those long, long lashes fanning his cheeks. His breath is slow and even as it puffs across Kurt’s shirt, and Kurt’s not sure if the warmth blooming across his skin is from the exhalations themselves or just his reaction to them. He tells himself to stop being so fixated, but it doesn’t work. He looks up at the screen for approximately five seconds before he finds himself contemplating Blaine’s lashes again.

There’s not much Kurt can do but think about them... and the rest of Blaine. He can’t move. His arm is cramped, his neck is stiff, and he can’t move, because Blaine is curled up against him asleep. It is one of the most incredible things he’s ever experienced. _Blaine_ is _asleep_ with _him_ , his forehead tucked against Kurt’s jaw, his hand tangled in Kurt’s shirt, and his ankle hooked around Kurt’s leg. It was nice enough just sitting together on the couch watching the movie this way, but now that Blaine’s asleep it is wonderful beyond imagining.

It’s not that Kurt thinks a sleeping Blaine is more appealing than an awake one, because Blaine while awake, though exuberant, is also happy and able to talk to, tease, and (when appropriate) make out with Kurt. A sleeping Blaine just sleeps. Sleeps and cuddles, as Kurt remembers from a few months ago, but this time Blaine’s not drunk and Kurt has no need to push him away. Instead, he feels warm and content that Blaine, who has had a long week, is comfortable enough in their relationship and in _him_ to let his guard down and doze off. It’s hard to believe that _he_ can make someone feel so at ease that he falls asleep.

Kurt carefully reaches out for his glass of water and takes a sip to try to keep his emotions at bay. He wants to savor every minute of this experience so that he can remember it all later. It’s another treasured memory to put away in the virtual scrapbook of Blaine in his mind. It’s already overflowing.

The movie plays on largely ignored, and a little while later Kurt’s dad walks through the room; he immediately softens his steps when he notices Blaine.

“Everything okay?” he asks Kurt with a little frown.

“It’s mid-terms this week. He was up half the night writing up his English essay,” Kurt whispers.

Burt looks between the two of them with an expression Kurt would like to categorize as puzzled but is probably more like surprised. It makes some sense; Kurt has never, ever seen Finn or his girlfriend of the moment fall asleep on the couch while they’re supposed to be watching a movie together. Then Burt shrugs and says, “Need anything?”

“No, thanks, dad. I’m great,” Kurt says with a genuine smile.

“Okay. I’ll come by a little later and see how you’re doing.” It’s less of a warning than it would have been if Blaine were awake, and Kurt is warmed by that, too, that his father sees Blaine as someone else to take care of like he does his family.

A minute or so after Kurt’s dad heads up the stairs, his feet heavy on the treads, Blaine stirs. “Hey,” he says muzzily to Kurt’s collarbone.

“Shh,” Kurt says, tightening the arm he has draped over Blaine’s back because he really isn’t ready to let the moment end.

“Was that your dad?”

Kurt strokes Blaine’s side. “Yes. Shh.”

“Is he mad?” Blaine asks.

“Why would he be mad?”

“He was mad the last time I slept here.”

Somehow refraining from pointing out that Blaine was _drunk_ and _in Kurt’s bed_ the last time, Kurt says, “It’s fine. Go back to sleep.”

“I’m missing the movie,” Blaine replies, but he doesn’t move a muscle otherwise.

“It’s the age-old story of boy meets girl; they sing, they dance, they flee the Nazis.”

“But you love this movie.”

“Which is why I’m fine with saying we’ll watch it again another time.”

“Good. Okay. That’s nice. You’re nice. Really nice.” Blaine pats Kurt’s leg, snuffles a little into his neck, and falls silent once more.

By the end of the movie, Kurt’s face hurts from smiling, and it isn’t just due to the Von Trapps.

*

Blaine is insanely distracting. It’s not just that he’s filled with enough bouncing energy to fuel a small, earthquake-prone city, but even when he’s relatively still he’s distracting. Kurt’s long been a martyr to Blaine’s warm eyes, and his cheekbones, and his mouth, and his _shoulders_ , and the line of his throat, and the shadow of his jaw at the end of the day, and the soft sound of his fingertips tapping against the desk to the beat of whatever music is running through his head, and... Yes, he’s very distracting.

Studying together has always been a bit of a challenge for Kurt, even when he knew that Blaine wasn’t interested in him. Back then he was focused on making sure his thoughts didn’t drift too far out of the boundaries of their friendship. He wouldn’t let himself dwell on Blaine’s eyelashes in person (too much) or the warmth of Blaine’s hands when they settled on his shoulders when Blaine stopped to lean down over him when he was walking by. He only noticed the line of Blaine’s back in a purely aesthetic fashion. He knew Blaine was both handsome and compelling, but he couldn’t think about it. Anything more would have led to insanity and the probable loss of the most important friendship in his life, so he learned to focus on his homework even in the face of Blaine’s distracting presence.

Now studying is a challenge in a different way, because he’s still supposed to be focusing on his work, but he’s _allowed_ to look. He’s allowed to touch his foot to Blaine’s beneath the library table or slip a butterscotch to him when the librarians aren’t looking and then spend the next fifteen minutes feeling altogether too hot in his uniform as Blaine’s mouth purses and sucks around the candy. He’s allowed to slip his fingers through Blaine’s on the table as they read. He’s allowed, but it definitely doesn’t help with his grades or his composure. He needs to be mature, like Blaine is. Blaine can still work with Kurt there. Not every second of the day needs to be about their relationship.

So Kurt redoubles his efforts at concentrating, and he actually becomes pretty good at it. If he occasionally finds himself memorizing the exact silhouette of Blaine’s face instead of his French conjugations he snaps his attention back the second he notices. It’s still wonderful to be able to be together and to walk hand-in-hand from the library at the end of the afternoon.

And then Kurt notices something: Blaine isn’t as focused on his own work as he appears. Kurt looks up from his English reading one afternoon and finds Blaine staring at him, his eyes dark, his cheeks flushed, and his breathing ragged. Kurt somehow manages not to let his jaw drop at the hunger in Blaine’s expression, and then Blaine is ducking his head and hastily excusing himself and leaving through the front doors of the library. He returns maybe ten minutes later, largely back to his usual pulled-together self, but Kurt can’t stop thinking about it.

Kurt starts to collect these moments, the little catches of breath or the extra long stares when they’re both supposed to be working on something else. They make him flush when he thinks about them, because he knows that Blaine is attracted to him, but it’s one thing to encourage the passion in Blaine’s kisses when they’re pressed together and quite another to make Blaine lose his composure while Kurt is doing absolutely nothing at all but sitting there. It makes Kurt feel kind of fluttery in ways he can’t quite identify. He likes it. It makes him a bit uncomfortable, but he likes it.

It also makes painfully Kurt self-conscious, and for a day or two he can hardly focus on his reading because he’s constantly forcing himself not to look over at Blaine. He starts to fidget with his pen as an unconscious way to relieve some of his nerves, and as he twirls it through his fingers he hears a strangled noise from across the table. Kurt glances up and goes hot at the intense way Blaine is staring at his hand like it is the most compelling thing in the universe.

When Blaine kisses him so breathless against his car at the end of the day that his legs threaten to buckle, Kurt starts to formulate a plan.

The next day they have Warblers practice, but the day after Kurt makes sure he sits across from Blaine with his back to the room at their favorite table in the library. It’s a rainy afternoon before the dorms are open, so the library is busy but not uncomfortably so, and they have their corner to themselves. At first Kurt just reads, or tries to, because his nerves threaten to get the best of him. Is he being stupid? He’s not a flirt, he has no practice with it, but if he can’t try with his boyfriend, who is obviously already attracted, then he won’t ever be able to learn. Not that he wants to flirt with other people, but getting a reaction from _Blaine_ could be really enjoyable.

After a few minutes, he starts to run his pen along his throat, after making sure it’s capped properly; there’s no point in ruining his uniform shirt, as basic and boring as it is. He trails it up and down, up and down, waiting, waiting, and then he hears the telltale catch of Blaine’s breath. Kurt manages not to smile, and he turns the page as he continues to skim the cap of the pen along his skin. He listens to Blaine’s breathing speed up, and then he dips the pen lower, just into his collar. Blaine makes a little noise and shifts in his seat. From the corner of his eye, Kurt can see him look down at his book, but a few seconds later he’s watching Kurt again.

Kurt drags it out a little longer, but his nerves are starting to edge in again that he’s doing something he just doesn’t know how to do, and he slips on the guise of confidence like it’s his favorite jacket. He knows how to fake it. So when he’s sure of Blaine’s attention he drops his pen onto his notebook and stretches his arms over his head like he has a crick in his back. It actually does feel good, especially when he hears Blaine choke back a sound, and he stretches back further, enjoying the pull in his muscles. He is tense, he feels so foolish and powerful all at once, and -

Blaine rockets out of his chair.

"What's wrong?" Kurt asks, still mid-stretch.

Blaine looks wild, a tempest in his eyes, and he focuses everywhere but Kurt. After a second, he swallows and settles his expression. "I need something from the stacks," he says thickly and rushes off without looking back.

Kurt stares after him, his stomach plummeting to his toes as wonders if he’s read the signs all wrong. Blaine looked _upset_ , not hungry, not interested, and the last thing Kurt wants to do is upset him. He’s no good at this. He doesn’t even know what he was thinking, because he _has_ a boyfriend. He doesn’t need to flirt to try to catch him. Obviously he doesn’t, because it just drove him away. It’s not like the other time; he’d looked _upset_. Unhappy.

Kurt allows himself ten seconds to rest his head in his hands, and then he goes after Blaine. He needs to make things right.

The library is full, but Kurt doesn’t know that many people well enough to chat with them. He asks a few Warblers here and there if they’ve seen Blaine, and soon he finds him with his forehead pressed against a rain-drenched window deep in the stacks.

Kurt steps forward slowly, watching the tense line of Blaine’s shoulders beneath his blazer and listening to the hoarseness of his breathing. He doesn’t sound okay.

Kurt’s shoes are all but silent on the carpet, and he shies away from touching Blaine without giving him some sort of warning. “Blaine?” he asks, and when Blaine jumps and spins around in shock, Kurt backs away with his hands up in front of him in apology. "Sorry. I was just worried about you. Are you okay?"

Blaine nods and says, "Yeah. I just needed to move around a little." His voice is a little unsteady.

“Too much studying, not enough furniture jumping?”

“Uh, yeah,” Blaine says, flushing and fidgeting with the sleeve of his blazer. “Something like that.”

Tilting his head, Kurt watches him for a moment. Blaine’s eyes are dark and don’t stop roving over him, and Kurt wonders if he’s been interpreting things incorrectly. He tentatively licks over his lower lip and sees Blaine’s hands clench into fists. Oh. Oh. That’s not unhappiness after all.

Kurt glances around and smirks a little to himself. He _is_ doing this right. He walks forward and he stops just in front of Blaine. “Or did something else distract you?” He runs the tip of his finger down Blaine’s tie.

It takes a second for Blaine to catch on, and then his eyes go as wide as some of the characters in those comic books Tina likes so much. “You were doing that on purpose,” Blaine says with obvious amazement. He looks at Kurt like he’s told him the Warblers are going on tour with Pink, like it’s impossible but totally welcome.

“Doing what?” Kurt asks, not trying to feign innocence in the slightest. He grins with relief.

“You know exactly what.” Blaine grabs Kurt’s hand and pulls him in closer. “You were driving me _crazy_ ,” he murmurs in Kurt’s ear, and the gravel in his voice goes straight to Kurt’s groin. He shivers, helpless, and feels the urge to close the few inches still left between them.

"Was I?" Kurt tries not to sound as delighted as he feels, because it had _worked_. He had flirted with Blaine in an entirely new way, and it had _worked_. He can do this. He can really do this.

"I am going to fail my Chem quiz tomorrow because of you," Blaine tells him.

Kurt leans in, smiling. "Then maybe I should let you get back to studying. I have more to do, too," he says. Not that he’s going to be able to study now, but at least he can sit and crow silently over his success. And he hadn’t even gotten to try some of his other ideas. He tugs at his hand a little, but Blaine doesn't let go.

Instead he kisses Kurt's hand from his palm down to the cuff of his sleeve open-mouthed, and when his teeth graze Kurt’s skin his fingers instinctively curl inward. A shiver goes up his spine. "Oh, I have other things I need to do first," Blaine says. He kisses each of Kurt's fingers in turn, covering first the backs and then the tips in soft, slow presses. His mouth is warm, his lips slightly dry, and their every touch makes Kurt’s blood heat another degree. His tie is getting tighter and tighter. So are, if he is going to be honest, his pants.

"I don't think I thought this through," Kurt says weakly, because he really should have known that driving Blaine a little crazy would end up with Blaine kissing him and making _him_ crazy. Not that it’s unwelcome, but he should have known. He swallows back the moan that threatens to escape when Blaine kisses his palm, soft and wet.

Meeting his eyes again, Blaine chuckles ruefully. "This is _all_ I'm going to be able to think about.”

“Me, too,” Kurt admits. He glances around at the quiet library around them, with all of the people and the lack of real privacy. His heart falls at how badly he misjudged the environment for this sort of thing, because he’d really like to take advantage of Blaine’s mood. “Yeah, I _really_ didn’t think this through.” He turns his hand in Blaine’s grip and laces their fingers together. “Sorry?” he says with a embarrassed shrug.

“No.” Blaine tugs Kurt in against him, and the press of his body and the arm he slips around Kurt’s waist makes Kurt’s pulse race. It’s not helping, but it’s still great. “No, you are not apologizing.”

That makes Kurt relax, as much as he can relax when so close to him. At least Blaine isn’t upset about the teasing, and if he’s not upset then Kurt really can’t be, not when Blaine is smiling at him with such warm eyes. “Okay.” He looks around again and judges the likelihood of someone in authority bothering them. There aren’t any tables near their aisle, and a quick glance at the spines of nearby books places them firmly in the midst of the wildly unpopular area of maritime history. The librarians are probably all busy with the glut of students in the building. He and Blaine are unlikely to be noticed, at least in the next few minutes.

“Then I’m going to do this, instead.” He dips his head to kiss Blaine, and since he doesn’t know what sort of time they have and since his nerves are still sparking with the remains of trepidation and the glow of success he doesn’t start out slowly. He kisses Blaine deeply, bringing his hand up to cup Blaine’s cheek and getting the other around him to tuck against Blaine’s lower back. His head spins at how good it feels and how readily Blaine responds.

Blaine meets him without any resistance, just enthusiasm and appreciation. He is solid as Kurt leans into him, open and ready to accept the press of his body from knee to chest. He moans softly when Kurt strokes along the line of his hair and the curve of his jaw, and he holds Kurt closer like he needs him there. There’s not a part of him that is rejecting a thing Kurt is doing, and Kurt kisses him harder with wonder and delight. Blaine gasps and then moans again more loudly when Kurt can’t stop himself from nipping at his lip.

“Shh,” Kurt says, soothing the spot with gentle, teasing kisses. “This is a library.” He can’t keep himself from smiling. He’s happy. He’s happy and proud and really turned on by it all. He kisses the corner of Blaine’s mouth, the curve of his lower lip.

Blaine’s hands jerk hard in the fabric of Kurt’s blazer. “God, Kurt, you have no idea how much I want to - " he breaks off and goes stiff in Kurt’s arms.

"What?" When Blaine doesn’t immediately answer, Kurt pulls back and looks at him, soothing him with gentle touches to his face.

"I don't know. Everything." Blaine’s eyes are desperate and vulnerable when they meet Kurt’s, and Kurt’s breath catches with the intensity of it. Blaine shakes his head a little and adds, "Not now, not all at once. But I do. God, I do. With you."

He’s so earnest and open with his desire that Kurt’s heart hurts in his chest with the joy of being wanted, and it’s either kiss him or give into the emotion threatening to choke him, and he’s _so_ not going to pull into himself when Blaine is _right there_. He cups Blaine’s face in his hands and pushes him back against the bookcase probably more roughly than he should, because he just needs to _kiss him_. And he _can_.

Blaine doesn’t seem to mind, because he’s kissing back, giving everything in return, happy and hungry, and Kurt wonders how he ever got so lucky to find this freedom.

He doesn’t know how, he really doesn’t, but it makes his heart soar to have it.

*

It’s finally happening.

Kurt walks across the campus beside Blaine feeling like he’s in a dream. The sky is blue, the birds are singing, and the squirrels and chipmunks are possibly performing an elaborate dance number with top hats and canes just around the corner.

He is transferring back to McKinley. He can hardly believe it. He’s wanted to go back and be where he belongs since the day he left, and now he can. He can be with his friends. He can stand out through song. He can wear his own clothes every single day. It’s wonderful. He’s getting what he wanted.

He can barely contain his grin as he clings to Blaine’s hand on their way to the day student lot. They’re walking slowly, but Kurt’s steps are as light as air. He’s going back to McKinley.

Leaving Blaine behind at Dalton is the only downside, and Kurt had been a little nervous to break the news that afternoon when he’d gotten back to school. It is a big change, after all. Blaine had looked shocked at first, which was a surprise since he’d known what Kurt had hoped for from the meeting with Dave and his father, but he’d pulled himself together and had been as supportive and wonderful as Kurt had known he would be. Kurt smiles to himself; Blaine is always supportive and wonderful.

Dating Blaine while at McKinley will be different from seeing each other every day at Dalton, but it will be okay, because it’s Blaine. Blaine, who will miss him and who even before Kurt was at Dalton made an effort to see him as much as possible. It’s going to be just fine. He knows it will. He’s sure of it.

Still, Kurt feels a pang when they turn down the path to the lot and he catches sight of his car, and he checks the time on his phone. He really should go; they’d spent far too long lying together quietly on Blaine’s bed this afternoon, just _being_ together. But the reality of leaving hits him in a way it hasn’t before, because Blaine walking him to his car isn’t the same this time. Soon he won’t be coming back. That’s great, it’s what he wants, but it’s still different.

He looks over at Blaine, who is watching him with a calm sadness he can’t quite hide. Blaine smiles when he sees Kurt looking at him, and that automatic veneer of being okay being thrown over his other emotions makes up Kurt’s mind. This is for both of them.

“I know you’ll have to sprint to dorm dinner, and I’m going to have to dodge getting a speeding ticket as it is, but can you give me a few more minutes?” Kurt asks.

Blaine’s eyes brighten a little, and he says, “Of course.”

Dalton is lacking in useful things like benches in this part of the campus, so Kurt leads Blaine over to one of the big oak trees that line the edge of the lot. Since his uniform doesn’t have to last much longer, he sets his bag down, sinks to the ground, and pulls Blaine down with him. Once Blaine sits against the tree and Kurt curls back into him he can almost forget about the damage the roots and grass must be doing to the fabric of his pants.

Blaine settles his arms around Kurt from behind, and Kurt closes his eyes for a moment as he smiles and put his hands on top of Blaine’s on his stomach. It feels wonderful and safe, all the more because he gets to take it with him. He gets to go back to McKinley and take Blaine’s steady affection with him. It makes every horrible step that’s gotten them here, from being bullied by Dave to being exiled to Dalton to being overlooked by Blaine for so very long, completely worth it.

“Thank you,” Kurt says softly.

Blaine kisses the side of Kurt’s head and leaves his face there, his breath ruffling Kurt’s hair, as they sit without speaking. The lot is mostly empty at this time of day, so there’s nothing to disturb them but the sounds of the birds in the trees and the distant happy shouts of students playing some game on the quad before dinner. It’s the kind of peaceful moment he’ll miss having here with Blaine, but they’ll just have to make them somewhere else.

Kurt will be sorry to lose some things about Dalton - the easy acceptance of his sexuality if not necessarily his personality, the camaraderie with boys of a sort he’s never had before, the lack of garish sports-themed t-shirts being worn in class, the amazing grilled chicken sandwiches in the dining hall - but they all pale in the face of what he’ll have at McKinley. He gets to go back. Somehow thanks to Santana and Dave Karofsky, the most unlikely pair in the world, he gets to return to where he belongs.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” Kurt whispers.

“What?” Blaine asks. “Going back?”

“Going back. Having you. I never thought I’d - “ Kurt stops himself abruptly and shrugs. It’s too much to say. When he left, he only thought he would get safety. He never thought he’d get both Blaine and the ability to return. It had been so unthinkable he couldn’t even wish for it at the time, and he out of anyone knows how to wish for big things.

“You deserve it all and more,” Blaine murmurs warmly in his ear. Kurt can feel the rumble in Blaine’s chest through his back. “Enjoy it.”

Laughing a little, Kurt squeezes Blaine’s hand. “Oh, I am. I am.” His heart has risen into his throat and is threatening to choke him with happiness. And there’s no one to pull this gift away from him here like Lucy playing football with Charlie Brown. It’s all real. He gets to have it all.

Kurt’s phone starts to play “Bust your Windows,” Mercedes’ familiar ring tone, and Kurt scrambles to answer it. Blaine’s arms tighten around him, and Kurt says over his shoulder, “Sorry. Mercedes has left me approximately twenty-seven messages and fifty texts this afternoon. Let me just -

“Hi,” he says into the phone. “Can I call you in a few from the car? I need to say goodbye to Blaine.” He absently strokes his fingers over Blaine’s as Mercedes ignores his request and asks him a thousand questions in a row about what’s happening now that he’s transferring back.

“ - and _when_ is this happening? When?” she asks.

“I don’t know yet,” Kurt tells her. “Figgins will call my dad tonight. Soon, though.”

“Not soon enough, boy. We’ve missed you.”

Kurt can’t keep from laughing at how the excitement in her voice mirrors the feelings in his own heart. “I know. It will be good to be home.” He squeezes Blaine’s hand and gets an answering press of fingers in return. “Seriously, let me call you from the car. We can talk all about it. Blaine’s got to get to dinner.”

Blaine tightens his arm and sighs, shifting a little like he is going to get up, and Kurt knows he really does have to let him go.

“Don’t you dare,” Kurt says to Blaine over his shoulder, because Mercedes can wait two minutes for him to have a proper kiss goodbye.

“Tell me you’re going to sing when you get back,” Mercedes says. “You know we’ve missed you, and Rachel needs to be reminded she’s not the only one who can knock Broadway out of the park.”

Kurt’s breath catches at how much he _wants_ to stand up and sing for them. It feels so right, and he’s been thinking about it since the minute he realized the transfer was actually going to happen. “Yes, I’m going to talk to Mr. Schue about it, but I know he’ll give me a few minutes at the start of practice. I can’t wait to sing for you guys.”

“I’m just saying, with the way Rachel’s been trying to dominate things around here, a little Streisand might be just what the doctor called for.”

“ _Mercedes_ , stop,” Kurt says, laughing, tugging Blaine’s arm up to hug him around his chest in his excitement. He has a perfect flash of inspiration, and he half-turns to Blaine, unable to contain the smile that threatens to overwhelm him. “I know exactly what I’m going to sing,” he tells them both.

Blaine’s answering smile is a little tight, but he presses his mouth to Kurt’s hair as Kurt finally convinces Mercedes to get off of the phone and then kisses him for a long, lush, breathless minute before they have to pull apart to go their separate ways.

“Call me tonight?” Kurt says as Blaine takes a few steps backwards but doesn’t let go of Kurt’s hand.

“Will you have time to talk?” Blaine asks. “I know you have a lot to do.” He’s obviously trying to sound supportive and understanding, but there’s a lurking unhappiness in his eyes. Kurt knows it will go away when Blaine sees how happy he is. “Phone calls to make, outfits to plan.”

“I will make time,” Kurt assures him and gets a real smile in return before Blaine glances at his watch in apology and has to run off.

Kurt talks to Mercedes the whole way home, but in his heart he is singing.

*

 _from Kurt:_  
12:05 pm - Rachel is on a roll today. I don’t know how she’s managing to chew and swallow her lunch around how fast she’s talking.  
12:12 pm - I need you to settle a dispute for me with Rachel. Get your lunch and text me.  
12:14 pm - You don’t have to choose my side, of course, but I think you will because you actually have a modicum of sense.  
12:23 pm - This is important. I don’t care if you’re still in line to get your food. Mercedes is taking Rachel’s side now.  
12:24 pm - And Santana. This is madness!  
12:27 pm - Blaine?  
12:28 pm - Did you forget to charge your phone again? Do I need to deputize Trent to keep on you about it now that I’m back here?

 _from Blaine:_  
2:25 pm - Sorry, sorry, sorry! I forgot my phone in my bag when I left it in the commons before lunch, and I just now was able to check it. What’s going on?  
2:25 pm - And please don’t sic Trent on me. I charged my phone last night.

 _from Kurt:_  
2:27 pm - The argument is over, and Rachel is strutting around like she owns Glee Club. I am soothing myself with the memory of her being pelted with eggs.

 _from Blaine:_  
2:28 pm - That’s why I like you so much; you’re a great friend. ;) xx

Kurt laughs and types back _:P xx_ before sliding his phone into his bag. He can’t help the smile on his face.

“I thought you were sulking,” Mercedes whispers to him, her eyes still on Rachel, who is standing at the front of the Choir Room and lecturing them about song selection criteria for Nationals. For some reason, probably because the universe is by its very nature entirely unfair, Mr. Schue isn’t stopping her.

“I’m focusing on the happier things in my life,” he tells her.

*

Nodding his thanks to the barista, Kurt picks up the drinks from the counter and turns to find someplace to sit. The Lima Bean is busy but not unpleasantly so, and he settles on a table in the middle of the room, far enough away from the registers that they won’t be bothered by the foot traffic but not so close to the windows that they’ll be blinded by the sun’s glare.

He tucks his bag beside his chair, arranges the cups, napkins, and so forth at their places, and adjusts the set of his bow tie.

Then he takes out his phone and pretends to look at it while he waits.

It shouldn’t be weird. Kurt has had coffee with Blaine in the Lima Bean more times than he can count, both as friends and now as boyfriends, and it’s never been weird, not even the first time when Kurt had felt as brittle as a caramel cage and Blaine had been a lifeline in a blazer more than a potential friend.

It shouldn’t be weird, because Kurt has arrived before Blaine before, and he’s ordered their coffee and found a table on his own a dozen times or more, choosing the seat facing the door so that he could enjoy seeing Blaine for a few candid seconds as he looked for Kurt. Even when they were just friends, Blaine had always had a flash of relief cross his face when he found Kurt across the room before his smile bloomed, like he’d been worried Kurt wouldn’t be there, and back when Kurt had had to save up moments of affection like a squirrel hoarding nuts for a long, cold winter Blaine’s happiness at seeing him - _him_ \- had been one of his favorite memories each week.

It shouldn’t be weird, because Kurt has talked to Blaine every night since he transferred, and even if he hadn’t that Blaine had showed up to serenade him on his first day back at McKinley certainly cemented the fact that Blaine is willing to go out of his way to support the change and express his enduring affection.

But this is the first time that they’ve met at the Lima Bean since Kurt’s transfer, and it is weird. It is. It feels fraught with additional tension and meaning. Instead of it being a place they go to decompress at the end of a long day at Dalton, now it’s the only place they’ll see each other today. Now it’s the middle ground, a compromise instead of a coda. Now it’s where their lives intersect instead of another place their lives are shared. That hasn’t been true for a long time, and though Kurt knows everything’s so different now he still can remember just how it felt to wait at this very table for a glimpse of Blaine’s bright smile to get him through his horrible, lonely weeks. That’s not what his life is now, it’s so far from that these days it’s like it was a lifetime ago, but his stomach still clenches with that sense memory as he sits and waits for Blaine to walk through the door.

Kurt traces a pattern on the tabletop with the tip of his finger, following the grain of the wood beneath its layers of varnish. He’s being foolish. There’s no need to be nervous. Just because the time here carries more weight again, it doesn’t mean that it is bad.

The door jingles as it opens, and Kurt glances up to see Blaine hurrying through, as handsome as always in his uniform. Blaine looks around the cafe. An elderly couple walks between them as Blaine turns in Kurt’s direction, and they’re hidden from each other for a moment. When Kurt can catch sight of Blaine again, Blaine’s shoulders are tight and his brows are drawn together with worry. Blaine’s gaze flits around the room once more, and then his whole body relaxes in an instant when he sees Kurt.

Kurt smiles automatically, and Blaine beams at him, skirting around the couple and walking right to Kurt, his eyes never leaving him.

“Hi,” Blaine says, sliding into the seat across from him. He’s still smiling, and Kurt realizes he is, too. He can’t seem to stop.

“Hello.”

“You bought me coffee.”

“It _is_ a coffee shop,” Kurt says, taking a sip of his own drink to try to calm the fluttering in his stomach. It’s not that Blaine looks any different than he did a couple of days ago, but he’s _right there_. Not on the other end of the phone line, not behind a text or e-mail. His hazel eyes and broad shoulders and lovely hands are _right there_.

Blaine seems similarly captivated by Kurt if the way his eyes roam across Kurt’s face and over his outfit are any indication. Kurt sits quietly as Blaine takes him in, confident in his choice of outfit and in his boyfriend that the attention is a good thing. “I’ve missed you,” Blaine says after a minute.

“I’ve missed you, too,” Kurt tells him, and then he holds his hand out, Blaine’s fingers twine with his, and all of a sudden it isn’t weird at all. They can do this. He really has this. He takes a deep breath, the first he’s been able to manage since Blaine walked in the door. “So tell me about your day. No detail is too small.”

Blaine laughs a little like he’s embarrassed by the request, but he squeezes Kurt’s hand and tells him, anyway.

*

Kurt walks down the hallway the next day between Mercedes and Artie and hums to himself.

He loves being back at McKinley. Sure, the cafeteria food is awful, the classes are less interesting, and the gym is still an olfactory nightmare, but Kurt doesn’t mind because he’s home. He has his friends, he has Glee Club, and he has his full ability to express himself. He’s happy.

The only thing he doesn’t have at McKinley is Blaine, and though he thinks wistfully of being able to walk down the halls hand-in-hand at Dalton he believes in taking advantage of the time they do have together instead of just wishing for more. He’ll always want more, after all. It’s his nature. He always wants more than he has. It’s why he’s going to get out of Lima as soon as he graduates, it’s why he’s going to achieve his dreams, and it’s why he has such a great boyfriend to begin with.

But just because Kurt wants more doesn’t mean that he doesn’t appreciate what he has. He has his family. He has his friends. He has a boyfriend who cares for and supports him and shows no sign of stopping. He has love, whether or not it’s returned or just his own freely given and accepted.

Kurt turns into the Choir Room and finds that he’s smiling.

When it comes down to it, despite the fact that he’ll always be striving for more, he has everything.


End file.
